Leap of Faith
by AcaciaDawn105
Summary: Our world was over. Everything we knew...it was gone. There was no more society, no more rules. Out there, it was every man for himself. Have you ever wondered how you would fair during the apocalypse? Well, chances are, you'll end up dead, just like everyone else we knew. So many dead, so many graves, so much pain. The scars from our past lives mix with those of the present. Death
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter~ The Beginning**

I was twenty years old when the news first came about the outbreak. Everywhere, people were dying, then coming back and attacking other people, either decimating them , or turning them into monsters as well. It almost didn't seem real, but it was happening. Zombies were roaming the earth. Me and my family weren't idiots. My brothers watched enough T.V. to know all about zombies. But, it wasn't until my brother-in-law called me to tell me to get everyone together, and drive to his house and help him get mobilized that I realized, we might all die.

See, Michael was an NCO, level 5 Sergent in the army. It was him that taught me to protect myself and be prepared for anything. He had been waiting for this day for a _long_ time. I got my stepdad, Paul, to driver over to Michael's house in his truck while I took the van. Despite all the original plans for the _Dream Vacation_, we had decided that it was safer to try to defend my house rather than his. We got to his house, jumped out and immediately went to work piling things in. MREs, cem-lights, medical supplies, food, fire-starting equipment, and a multitude of weapons and ammo. Me and him planned this out a fe wyears back, before I got knocked up by his brother and we moved out...not on the best of terms. But, with the end of the world around the corner, we forgave and forgot.

When we got back , we got everything set up. The kitchen/pantry would be storage. The two back rooms would be living areas. The only windows were high up and impossible for a zombie to climb and break. The rest of the windows had sheets or towels over them to keep light from escaping. The chickens were a little harder to deal with. We had some 40-odd chickens, most of which were hens, which were all laying. Unfortunately, we had to silence them, as the zombies wer attracted to sound. We dried most of the meat, keeping two hens for laying. We also had four dogs, two border collie mix, and two rat terrier mix. They were good dogs that knew when to be quiet and knew when to bite.

Of course, things can get hairy with twelve people living in two rooms. Eventually, my sweet littly baby girl, Dawn, only two and a half at the time, started having a temper tantrum right as a heard started through. They came at us like a strom, out of nowhere. We got out go-bags and gought our way to the cars.

Tom, my husband/baby daddy had been carrying Dawn when a zombie got hold of his leg...neither of them made it. Paul got caught as well. Momma was a wreck. My oldest younger brother Collin held her as she cried while I drove all night to get out of town. I couldn't take my eyes off the road, as the tears crawled their way down my face. There was nothing left for us to go back for in that small Mississippi town.

Michael worked fo rthe National Guard while state-side, and as NCO, had the keys to the weapons vault at his unit's station. Me and him were the only ones who had regular practice with guns, or any survival, for that matter. Along the way, we checked for anyone we may have known. But, wherever we went, no one we know before survived. For a while it seemed like we were the only ones. Eventually, though, we found another group...they tried to kill us. Over the next year or so, we lost a few pople, until it was just down to Collin, Michael, Momma, my second brother, Rob, Tammy, and me.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2~ Hunting**

The forest was peaceful, blissfully unaware of the fugure that stalked through the underbrush of the hot Georgia woods. Tracks on the ground lead to a buck wounded in a fight, the kind that all too often became food for walkers. As the tracks continued, the blood bacame more and more like puddles rather than drops. Slowly, ever so slowly, creeping closer to the target. The buck was in sight, laying down on it's side, it's breath labored. The figure stood tall, taking aim with the recurve bow straight at the eye. The animal's death would be quick, with no fear and no pain. This was how she hunted. Just as she let the arrow fly, someone stepped into the line of fire.

All she could think, as the bolt flew through the air, straight at the unknown hunter, was _No, no, no, nonononononono!_ The person dropped when the arrow sank into their leg, going right through and into the buck's eye.

**Daryl POV**

"FUCK!" he spun around, raising his weapon as he did.

"Whoa!" A woman strode out of the bushes, bow in the air, hands showing that she wasn't reacing for the arrows strapped to her back.

"The fuck, man!" Daryl shouted at her.

"Look, I'm sorry. You stepped out right as I let go. Now, I'm gonna put my bow down, real slow. How 'bout you do the same thing, huh?" He watched as she slowly crouched down and placed the weapon in the leaves. "I wasn't trying to hurt you, I'm sorry."

Narrowing his eyes at her, Daryl layed down his crossbow and waited. "What now?"

"I'm gonna have to take a look at your leg. Bind it up. You on your own, or do you have a group?"

"Why?"

She rolled her eyes. "I'm not gonna kill anyone, dude. I want to take you back that way your not surrounded by strangers. I'll even split the buck with you, give you more if you got more people."

After a moment of contemplation, he answered her. "I got a group."

"Ok, that wasn't so hard. Let me look at your leg." She knelt down and had him lean against the dead animal, stretch out his leg. "Luckily for you, it went straight through and didn't tear anything important. You may not be huntin' for a few weeks. You'll have to stay off of it for a few days at least, not countin' the amount of time it takes for us to get you back." She pulled her backpack off and removed a first aid kit. Taking out a bottle of hydrogen peroxide, she uncapped it and poured it on the wound. Daryl hissed as it bubbled through the hole in his leg. "Big baby. You got a name?" She started wrapping a sterile bandage around it.

"I should be asking you that question. You're the one shot me."

"Good point. Common courtesy. My name's Diane Stringer. And you?"

"Daryl Dixon."

"Well, Daryl. I'd say you're good to go for right now. Let me get this kill skinned and gutted, then we'll get you back to your people."

"You need some help gettin' that thing up?"

Diane snorted. "Honey, you ain't in any shape to be liftin' a 200 pound anything. I'm perfectly fine, you just sit there an' look pretty, kay?"

Daryl was stunned. No woman had ever said anything like that to him...actually, no one had, except maybe Merle. He watched as she cut the tendons on the back legs of the buck, tied a rope around them, threw the rope over a tree limb and hauled the carcass to the level of her torso. Cutting the throat, she stepped back and waited for it to bleed out.

"So, why don't you tell me about your group?" she said non-chalantly.

"Why?"

"Relax, I just wanna know that I'm not walkin' into somewhere that they're gonna kill me as soon as they see me."

"Fair enough. I think the kill's done bleedin'." She twisted the head and broke the neck, pulling it off and tossing it to him.

"Mind gettin' the horns off for me?" She handed him a knife with a saw blade. "So, am I gonna get blown up as soon as I let go of you?"

"Naw, Rick wouldn't let anybody get ya if you was me."

"Rick?"

"Leader of our little posse. He used to be a cop, him an' one other guy, his partner, Shane. They make the calls. Rick's gotta wife, Lori, an' a son, Carl, good kid."

"Y'all got kids?" Diane turned to him in disbelief.

"Yeah. Him an' a little girl named Sophia. Actually, Sophia's gone. A big herd of walkers came through, we was hidin', but she got up to fast an' got chased by two of 'em. Rick went after her, said he told her to go back to the highway if he didn't come back. She ran off too quick and got herself lost. I been out lookin' for her almost everyday since then."

"Oh...I hope you find her...once you're back on your feet."

"She's dead. Got bit, one o' the guys at the farm we made camp at found her, herded her into the barn where they've been keepin' family and friends that turned."

"Why?"

"They thought they were just sick, that they'd get better."

"But y'all proved them otherwise?"

"Yeah, that's how we found out about Sophia. Her momma was just..."

"Torn up?"

"Yeah..."

"What's her momma's name?"

"Carol."

"So, three guys, two women, one kid...who else?"

"Glenn, the chinaman, he does runs. T-Dog, he's all muscle. Dale, old man with an RV. Andrea, blondie, just lost her sister. There's some people that own the farm. Hershal, his farm, his kids. Maggie, oldest daughter. Patricia, second. Beth, youngest. Jimmy, he's a farmhand, Beth's boyfriend."

"That all?" By the time he had finished talking, she had the deer skinned and gutted, and was cutting the back-strap. "Hell, we don't even have nearly that many. Just me, my momma, two brothers, my brother-in-law, and his buddy's wife."

"You managed to get your momma out?"

"Barely. We've lost my youngest brother, my stepdad, my husband and daughter, a friend and his kids. Momma's sick from all this shit, she's got hypoglycimia and excema."

"She got a who in her what?"

Diane chuckled. "Sorry, low bloodsugar and skin problems. When she's outside, she has to stay cool because she barely sweats, and when she does, she breaks out. It's the salt. And when she doesn't eat, she gets faint. Recently, food's been scarce and her immune system is shot...she caught some kind of bug, can't hardly move. Me and Michael have been trying to hunt for a week. This is the first big game either of us have been able to track...walkers get to them first. Collin's been trying to find more canned goods and meds when he goes on runs. Hasn't been real successful."

"Then maybe it's a good thing you shot me."

"What makes you say that?"

"Hershal's a vet, been takin' care of those in our group who get hurt, patched me up real good. I'm sure he can get your momma back on her feet."

"Really?" she knealt down next to him with wide, hopeful eyes. "Do you really think he can help?"

Daryl leaned back a bit, not used to people in his personal bubble. "Yeah. You got a way to communicate with your folks?" Diane pulled out a morse code communicator. "Damn. Y'all actually know how to use that?"

"Yup. Michael and his buddy Kyle were in the army, they had to learn it, then taught it to us so we could keep up with each other without anyone being able to decipher it. Most people don't know morse code unless they were military. Lemme finish the deer, I'll get ahold of 'em and we'll get you back."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3~Lean on Me**

**Daryl POV**

"How far to the farm?" Diane was finishing up wrapping the meat in plastic bags.

"Not far. I was out hunting for a day and a half. About two miles, give or take. South."

Heaving up her backpack, Diane went back to her bow and strapped it to her quiver. "Alright. You ready?" Daryl nodded and tried to get up but fell back. "Hold on..." she turned and found a strong limb for him to use as a crutch. "Here, try this." Taking hold of her arm, he hauled himself up on his good leg and put the stick under his arm. With Diane under the arm above the bad leg, they set off.

It took most of the day before they managed to break out into the clearing. As soon as they were in sight, Daryl yelled for Rick and Hershal. They came running, along with several other people. He knew what they saw was strange. They're best hunter wounded yet again and being hauled towards them by a small woman in a camo cap, grey tank top, green cargo pants, and combat boots, lugging a large military style backpack and quiver.

"What the hell happened?!" Rick yelled as they neared.

"Huntin' accident. Found a wounded buck, thought I could salvage it, turned out she was trackin' it, shot right as I stepped out. Caught my leg." Hershal ushered them to the house.

As they got into the room they used for wounded, the second time Daryl had been in it. They got him down on the bed, then Rick rounded on her.

**Diane POV**

"Strip her of her weapons," the man in the cop's uniform, probably Rick, ordered the big black man and a frail looking woman with short-cropped hair.

"Excuse me? I just saved your buddy."

"You're the one who shot him in the first place. We don't know you, and I can't have the possibility of you hurting someone else."

Diane leaned around to look at the redneck on the bed. "I thought you said I wouldn't get blown up?"

"Yeah, sorry 'bout that. Not my place to give orders."

"Right...so, I assume you're Rick, then?"

"How do you know my name?"

"How do you think? Your boy here told me about y'all. I didn't mean to shoot him, I patched him up. He told me that my family and I would be safe here if I asked _you_ to let us stay." Rick turned and looked at Daryl.

"Why?"

"Her momma's sick. She agreed to give us the majority of the deer she killed in return for us lettin' them stay here while she recovered."

"That last bit was my idea, by the way." She raised her hand with a smile. "Look, I am _not_ gonna hurt any of y'all, just like I told Daryl. My mother needs medical attention and I've been gone far too long helpin' get this guy home. I'm sure one of the boys has managed to get themselves hurt at some point. Please, I'm not asking for you to let us stay forever, just long enough for my mom to get better."

Rick and the others stared at her until Rick turned to Hershal. "It's your farm, your rules. What d'ya say?"

"I say we let 'em stay. How many of y'all are there?"

"Six, including me. We can help with anything around here while we stay. Me and Collin spent four years workin' on our grandad's farm in Mississippi, then takin' care of the property at my house. Michael is ex-military, taught me everything I know about hunting and guns. Collin's pretty handy with a hammer, Rob's great with figurin' stuff out. Tammy can help cook, and Momma-"

"Alright, sweetheart, I get it. Y'all are helpful, and we sure appreciate it. But, for now, I'm gonna have to ask you to remove your weapons...all of 'em." She nodded, following the pair into the living room.

"Just so you know, I've already contacted my people. They know I'm here, and are waiting for me to send word that it's safe."

"Well, you can tell 'em tomorrow. Now, take 'em off." The big man, who she figured was T-Dog, pointed to the coffee table.

Shrugging, she pulled the quiver over her head, pulled her backpack off, then reached to her belt to take off the multitude of knives and hand guns that hung there. Knives came out of every crevice, guns from her ankles, and throwing pins from her hair. Seeing these, T-Dog and the woman blanched.

"What? I'm skilled_ and_ old fashioned."

"I don't think old fashioned women would agree." The woman picked one up, "How do you even use these?"

"Here, lemme show ya." When Diane reached for it, T-Dog grabbed her hand. "I'm not gonna hurt anyone, just gonna throw it at the wall." The big man narrowed his eyes at her before letting go and allowing her to take the pin. "It's a lot like a regular throwing knife, only smaller, therefore more likely to go off course. See that crack in the wall there?" As soon as they saw it, she loosed the pin, right in the middle of the crack. "And viola. Takes some practice, but it's well worth it. Most people don't expect women to carry deadly hair pins...unless they're latino. Them bitches are crazy." Placing the pin back with the rest, she stood. "So, you gonna frisk me? Strip search me? What's the deal here?"

"Uh, nothin'. Just take you out to meet the rest, I s'pose."

"Fine with me. Didn't really fancy strippin' in an old man's house, might give him a heart attack."

"That you very well might." Hershal stepped into the room, wiping his hands on a towel, Rick right behind him. "So, I'll thank you not to unless you're takin' a bath."

"How is he?" Diane asked.

"Oh, fine, fine. Thanks to your well executed first aid. Don't see that kind of meticulousness out in the woods much, or sterile bandages," he told her with a scrutinizing gaze.

"I keep a first aid kit in my bag. You're welcome to go through it. I got more weapons, ammo, and some meat that'll need to be taken care of soon."

"More weapons?" Rick asked looking at the table.

"Man, this girl's packin' more heat than all of us together."

"Where the hell'd you get all this stuff?"

"I told you, my brother-in-law is ex-military. He had keys to a National Guard station that he worked at. Got us in, got it cleared out. Made several stops at a couple others along the way."

"Are any of your group a danger to us?"

"Not really. Not unless you give us a reason to be, like threatening us, or making us feel threatened. It's not the best idea. Ex-army dog, and a kid who used to have serious anger issues, then me, all of who can and will kill someone in a heartbeat if I think they are any kind of danger to our family." They all stared at her for a moment, soaking in what she said. "Any of _your_ people a danger to mine?"

"Just Daryl, maybe, and I think you hit it off pretty well with him." Rick chuckled. "Other than that, as long as your guys know who's in charge, there won't be a problem. When they get here, they'll be stripped of their weapons as well until we're sure they won't kill us in our sleep."

"None of us are like that," Diane was offended. "We have tried takin' people in before, and each time, it was _them_ who tried to kill _us_. We have no intention of ruining a perfectly good opportunity of belonging somewhere." Shaking her head, she turned back to Hershal. "Is it ok if I go talk to Daryl, or is he too drugged up to speak?"

"Naw, he handles pain rather well." _Probably because he's seen too much of it._ "But you may have to wait 'til tomorrow to talk to him. He's...not exactly thrilled about what happened."

"I understand." Diane wasn't an idiot. She had seen the edges of the scars under his shirt, and she knew all too well what had made them. Hershal called his oldest daughter, Maggie, to take her to the bathroom to get clean. "Oh, I've got some stuff in my bag. Meat that needs to either be cooked or cured, some canned goods if y'all need any. I've got some extra clothes, so there's no need to give me any."

Maggie nodded at her, then left the room, only to return with her backpack and dumped it out on the floor. It occured to Diane that Maggie wasn't too thrilled with putting their best hunter out of commision. Looking back at the woman, she saw the look of hatred that accompanied the rough actions. She knelt down and started separating out the meat and weapons, and the clothes she would need. Weapons went back in the bag, clothes in her arms, and the meat with T-Dog to the kitchen. Maggie led her to the bathroom, then left her alone.

Diane let the water heat up as she stripped. Once her dirty clothes were piled in the corner, she shed her glasses and stepped under the spray. It had been far too long since she had a hot shower, and watched as the dirt and grime literally ran off her. The water going down the drain was nearly opaque with filth. There was a wash rag hanging on the rail, along with various soaps and shampoo. One of the soap bars smelled of lavender, which she rubbed on the rag then scrubbed her skin raw.

When she was done, she dressed and braided her hair to get it out of the way. She was met outside by a thin woman who identified herself as Lori, Rick's wife. She was in charge of getting Diane something to eat and finding a place for her to stay for the night. Apparently, since none of them knew her, she had to stay in the house under lock and key, with someone outside the door at all times.

_It's gonna be a long night._

The next morning, Diane was allowed out for the day. When Beth mentioned taking breakfast to Daryl, she offered to take it for her. They pointed her down the hall and left her alone after that. She knocked on the door, waited a few seconds, before opening it a bit.

"Hey, there. How you feelin'?" She opened it a little more when she saw him roll over and pull the blanket up.

"Like I just gone shot through the leg. Doc gave me some meds for the pain, but I can't take 'em 'til I eat." The hunter watched her through narrowed eyes as she set the tray down.

"I'm sorry." She sat down in the chair nex to the bed.

"It'll be fine. I've been through worse. Last time I went out lookin' for Sophia, I fell on an arrow. Messed my side up pretty bad. Got shot, too."

"Shot?"

"Andrea thought I was a walker."

"I see...Well, here's your breakfast, so you can take the meds right after." He grunted in resopnse and went to get the tray, but stopped when she didn't move.

"Somethin' you need?"

"Just figured I'd keep you company. I don't really know anyone else, until my group gets here this evening. None of others seem to like me very much."

"Some of 'em don't like anybody much, but that don't mean you gotta sit around here an' bug me.

"Oh, you wound me, Mr. Dixon," she held her chest in mock hurt. "And here I thought we were friends."

"I ain't got no friends."

"Really?" he nodded. "I don't think that's true. Look at all the people around here that wanna kill me 'cause I accidently shot you, though I understand that they think I might have done it on purpose." Noticing that he still hadn't moved for trying to keep the sheet over his chest, Diane got up and grabbed his shirt. "If it really bothers you that much, you could just ask me to leave."

"What bothers me?" he snatched his shirt and waited for her to turn around. "You think I'm bothered by the fact that a pretty girl is in the room waitin' to see me half naked, when I know I look damn fine."

The snark response made her chuckle. "Although I'm glad that you think so highly of your physique, that's not what I meant." She turned around when she heard the clink of silverware. "I meant the scars that you try so hard to hide from everyone, and succeed for the most part."

Daryl's eyes shot up from his food, fork halfway to his mouth. A dark looked flashed through his blue orbs. He carefully set the utinsel down, staring hard at his scrambled eggs. "What the hell you talkin' 'bout?"

"You know very well what I'm talkin' about. I'm not blind, nor am I stupid. I know perfectly well what happened-"

"You don't know a damn thing!" She stepped back as he threw himself from the bed, and got in her face. "You don't know what I've gone through and you ain't got no right to even _think_ about tryin' to sympathise." His voice was low and rough, his hands clenching and unclenching into fists. "Don't even try to talk like you jack shit, 'cause you obviously don't."

Diane's face was stoney, but her eyes held fear. "You're gonna mess up your leg more than it already is. You should probably lay back down."

"The hell with my leg!"

"You're gonna regret it in about two seconds." Sure enough, she could see the pain return to his eyes as the adrenaline started fading. "Why don't you finish your breakfast, and I'll go see if anybody needs help outside?"

"I think you better go do that." Daryl turned away from her and sat back down, grabbing the tray as she moved to open the door.

"And just so you know, _Mr. Dixon_, I do know what I'm talkin' about. I may not know exactly what you went through before I shot you yesterday, but I do know a thing or two about pain and the scars that it leaves...both visible and not." With that, she left, closing the door firmly behind her.


End file.
